I
by TheCreatureInTheClearing
Summary: A series of thoughts, fears and hells of Death Eaters. A very personal and uncomfortably private view upon the darkest desires and horrors hidden in their strange souls. M for violence and foul language
1. I know

This is a small drabble from Bellas point of view. I might continue it, by writing other short drabbles from other Death Eater's pov., but I don't know yet.

I first wrote it in romanian and I hope the translation is acceptable, I have been translating all morning untill noon and being tired I am afraid I made some mistakes.

I will ask you to not be offended by the inevitable trashing of other characters, but you must keep in mind that this is Bella and she is not exactly the most likeable of people.

If you read it pleease leave a review. My muses feed themselves on them and lately they have been positively starving. have mercy on them...

Anyway let us not keep our lovely lady waiting and see what she has to say!

Thanks again for reading and enjoy if you can!

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*Disclaimer: Yeah, right, JK Rowling got bored of resting on her laurels and started writing fan fiction...

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**I know**

_Bellatrix Lestrange (Black)_

My name is Bellatrix Lestrange. Or Bella, how some call me. Insane, Round the Bend, Demented, Fanatical Bella. Yes, _fanatical_ amuses me most of all. They think this term is best suited for me. They think they know me. Those people that hated, execrated, loathed and imprisoned me, in the end feared me. I was the _bête noire _and I'm proud of it.

Hate originates from fear and fear is my greatest vice. I adore the **fear** in their eyes. If not for fear I could never feel victorious. If not for fear there would be neither determination nor _fanatism _in me. It's hilarious really, how such a simple and little thing can be my sole trigger.

I do not deny the fact that, until the end, I craved for much more than just the exhilarant sensation of inflicting pain and terror. Yes, He convinced me. I did everything for him. In his name I mutilated, tortured, killed. He knew why. Yes, he has always been aware of my initial motives. Some of those inclined to absurd romantic ideals, might say that he could not understand even if he did know. But I know him. No one knows him better than I do.

In theory, he was aware of what was happening to me but there are, at times, such powerful yearnings in a man's soul that can blind people. There are things that one craves so much that everything else vanishes from consciousness, mind and soul. It's that certain thing that gives you life, that nourishes you every day. Motivation? I don't think that such a prosaic word can do justice to the real meaning. The reason for living, maybe? Again, another unsuitable joining of words, insipid, melodramatic. I think it can be better reduced to what is essentially **you**, what you become. When given the chance to act for your beliefs, to be able to build the ideal that so many generations lived to achieve while surrounded by a handful of people that crave for the exact same things, there is no turning back, there is no doubt. When He came to see that he **can**, that he **will** do something to change his destiny, that flame in him was first ignited, and everything else was gone. Yes, I know. I do not doubt, I know him better than all.

In moments like these there is only one way, **forward**. There is only **power** and those to **weak** to seek it. This is my creed and has always been. I still don't understand why some didn't agree, because, in the end, those silly kids with their crazy old coot wanted the same thing.

No, no, no one fools me, I see further and deeper in a man's soul than they will ever imagine. I know very well what men want, I can feel them, smell their weaknesses and hidden desires. Why, you might ask? Because weakness smells. Ideals reek like dead animals. There is no single man on this earth that can perfectly conceal his true aspirations. People burrow, snake between their duties and their so called „Because I must" with such determination that they betray themselves. When an ideal eats you up inside and haunts you in your sleep you become it's slave and that's when your mask falls.

Don't you dare tell me those insolent brats don't want power! Don't tell me Potter does not enjoy his celebrity! I don't want to hear that he does not suffer of the hero's syndrome. For appreciation anyone would do anything, they would sacrifice their lives on the altar of adulation, anything to be remembered. Because we fear death. Because to be remembered is **immortality**.

I know.

I know human nature. Unfortunately no one believed that. Unfortunately people thought they knew me. How wrong they were. It's simple to reduce everything you do not understand to insanity, abnormality. It saves you a great deal of time and brain cells.

Why is she so convinced by everything he says? Because she is insane!

Why doesn't she stop for a second and think for herself? Because she is a raving lunatic!

Why does she still believe in him after all those years spent in Azkaban? Because she is a fanatical wench!

That is how people spoke of me. And I'm not only referring to the opposition, they don't tire themselves with stereotypes regarding me anymore. I'm talking about my dear _associates _and _colleagues._

There came a time when I started to realise they were talking about me behind my back. They were **hiding** behind their perfect impassive, unmoved expressions, talking, judging, and giving their useless opinions on my mental health. They would **whisper** in secret to one another, trashing and flaying me to my very bone, in the end to reach the same conclusion, deluded, wacko. They were all doing it, without exception. Even my dear husband. Even my lovely sister. He was the only one than never did this. He never judged me, only He understood me. Because I am Him and He is me. We are one and the same.

You might laugh at Bella's naïveté and say that he simply never paid enough attention to my torments to know. I DO NOT CARE! Even if it is so it does not matter. All that matters is the **outcome** and not the reasons. If he accepted me for who I am, nothing else matters.

I know.

I know the human nature better than anyone. I was the first to smell the **treachery** in Severus. I am not a Legilimens but I felt it. Every time when he looked the other way when the Master spoke to him, every time when he was uttering his thousand meaning answers. When he would disappear from meetings or when he didn't come altogether, reasoning that he was fulfilling his spy duties. I could see in his stoned and perfectly controlled expression his revulsion for the Master, for the Cause. Neither wince nor startle could betray his horror when casting a Cruciatus, but I could see it. There was something in him, in his very aura that betrayed his true self. And he knew that I was the only one that truly knew him. And he was taking great pleasure in seeing my accusations **overlooked**. He would sneer and laugh at me because he had the luxury to do so, because he was aware of how valuable he was in our **war**. He was arrogant and conceited because he was aware of my inability to push him of from his pedestal. He would look down at me, lifting his big nose in the air. „_Yes, yes, yes Bella, of course everyone would believe you, esspecially now after that unfortunate failure at the Ministry","Of course, of course, it is truly admirable your resilience after spending such a long time in prison for the Dark Lord"_. Impertinent, hidden, filthy half-blood...That's what he was, a disgusting excuse for a man!

And I always knew, and until the last moment I warned Him but he didn't believe me. Every second I waited for the slimy bastard to come out from behind Dumbledore's skirts and make the final move. But he didn't. He stood and waited until the very last moment with such **patience** that I was almost fooled again.

After he killed the old fool I thought I was wrong. I thought that, for the very first time in my life I was outsmarted. But there still was something that eluded me. There was a small voice in the back of my head that nagged me. I was never completely convinced of his loyalty.

That's how I've always been. I have always known. I have known everything about everyone. I knew that my dear nephew was a **coward** just like his daddy. I knew that he didn't have it in him to **kill** the old coot and that he will run scared to his mummy and daddy.

My sister has always been gullible and never understood what we were doing, our ideals. She has always been the perfect mother and wife; this is what she knew best. I always hoped I was wrong about her. I wanted to believe that she didn't lost her faith.

I stopped trusting my brother-in-law after the first fall of the Dark Lord when he cowardly ran away, claiming he did everything under Imperius. But with Cissa it was different; I still had hopes for her...

The night she threatened me with her wand, on Spinner's End, before tying that slimy bastard to her with that stupid Unbreakable Vow, I started having suspicions. I didn't want to believe it's true, but I never saw her so determined and it was the first time she pointed her wand at me. She had a **manic** twinkle in her eyes and for a moment I thought she will curse me. That night I saw myself in her eyes. I saw the same powerful drive the same **ambition**. The difference is that her ambition was unlike mine, her ambition was directed at her family.

I never could and never will understand her, but until the very end I hoped she will follow the right path and not stray. But she did.

She was the only one that fooled me, I never knew what was in her mind and I let myself be blinded by the trust I had for her. I didn't know Potter was alive when she checked his pulse. No one knew until he stood up and pointed his wand at our master. Then it was too late and Cissa ran away calling for Draco. I would have **killed** her just then, without remorse. I would have destroyed them all, her, her husband and even Draco. Because he was the cause to it all. If there was no Draco, Cissa wouldn't have had a reason to betray us, to kill our Master. Until the end I hold her responsible for the Dark Lord's death. She killed him by betraying him, indirectly it's her fault. Them, their family, the family my sister joined, they did nothing good for our cause. I still wonder why that surprises me, they have always went with the flow. Inconsistent, false, selfish, slippery…

In that very last moment of my **life**, before the blood-traitor Weasley pointed her wand at me, I threw a last glance at my sister. She was hidden with Draco and Lucius in far corner of the Hall weeping and clutching her son in her arms. Like a last confirmation of our blood tie she felt my stare on her and looked into my eyes. In that last glance we shared I concentrated all my fury and hate towards her, her family and their deeds. I saw terror, despair, **confusion** but also Hope in her eyes. But regret or understanding were missing.

She didn't understand. Not even in that last moment she didn't understood her sister.

No one **understands**. Only I know.

Nothing makes me happier than to know that I never betrayed Him, that I stood by Him until the last moment. Me and Him one and the **same**.

Nothing makes me happier than to know that, in the end I, I, I was right!

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	2. I am

_I will be continuing this, as I said before. It might take a while between updates though because I find these drabbles very hard to write for some reason. _

_This series of one shots represent something. Each one will be from the point of view of one Death Eater(dead or not, deffected or not, etc) and there will be twelve of them. Each one is a verb that represents the character, a verb that drives them as individuals, their very personal meaning in life. "I know", was Bella's core identity, "I am"(the one you are about to read) is Barty Crouch's. There will be ten more. This concept is a part of something you are all familiar with, it's something most of you read every morning in the most ordinary of magazines or papers. It is not some philosophical concept, or psichological clasification, nothing abstract or that requires a special graduation degree. Actually, it is so simple and so "right under your nose" that you might miss it._

_I gave you hints, there will be twelve one shots, each representing a Death Eater's personality and their motives, each one shot will be revolving around a verb, the driving force of that character. I want you to tell me what each represents and what they are part of. _

_I hope you will like it._

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**I am**

_Bartemius Crouch Jr._

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I am…I am…I am still alive. I am not afraid of what is coming. I am not and never will be afraid of anything.

Fear is the greatest traitor, it brings you to ruin when you least expect it so why give in. It's strange though how tempting it is sometimes to surrender to it because it feels so comfortable to go with the flow, to just let the instinct take over, to give in to the natural, animal reaction of fear.

The mind, the traitress, pleads, begs, tempts you to lose control, tries to exhort you that it's better, more than that it resorts to even lower means making you believe that it is how any normal human reacts. It is not so. If all would know everything would be better. What an idiotic thing to let it take over. It's the purest form of stupidity. It exceeds weakness, fear is not weakness, fear is stupidity and I hate human stupidity because it's flimsy, unjustified. An animal is lead by instinct because that is how it was built and it has no other choice. Men though, are made to think, to be aware, to build and control themselves. I have always done that, I have constructed myself brick by brick until I reached my personal ideal.

This is what I am and I cannot change, not that I ever wanted to. I smothered fear from the cradle, when it was only sprouting; I never let it grow roots into my soul. Timidity, reticence, failure, they spring from fear. How could you do what you want of your life, how could you accomplish your plans with the shadow of fear looming over, following you everywhere?

I am everything you are not. I am a wizard, I am of noble blood, I am happy with the life I've lived, I am proud of my accomplishments. I am a Death Eater, I have made justice, I have made my duty, and I have won.

The only thing that ever mattered to me had been my Master's word – my only guide, my only light.

We are superior by birth; I only claimed what rightfully belonged to me, my most natural right, that of leading those that are inferior to me. I don't loath them, I'm aware that the mudbloods are as human as I am, but that doesn't mean that they should be my equals. A wild animal is made of flesh and bone, like me, but I don't let it inside my home, serve him diner at my table, work for him, they are not my equals and they should never be given an instrument of supreme power. They should never play with a wand. You can't give diamonds to pigs.

A mudblood hasn't been raised with the awareness that magic exists; it was raised in a muggle environment, surrounded by muggle objects, closed in their little abject world – these are the only things he can understand and hereditary he is incapable to develop a magical calling naturally. They would learn by heart, repeat again and again, but all to a point and then incapability strikes because through a mud blood's veins there isn't a single drop of the old, ancient blood, the blood of the ancestors. They can't come into our world, influencing, shaping, and diluting the ancient bloodlines. The menace is terrible and it is mind numbing how no one understands, truly surprising that not even _he_, with all his virtue and self – righteousness, followed the ancient and noble tradition. Sad.

I am sure that a shroud of stupidity has fallen over everyone's eyes. At least I'm certain I'm one of the few that act normal, who is aware of everything around him, one of the few that don't walk around blindly and pointlessly through this world. I am fair and responsible. I am responsible for the world I was born into and it is my duty to defend it at any cost. The only fact that I'm certain of is that to achieve the ends I desire I must accomplish it myself. Only through my endeavour and labour will I reach my goal. If there is one thing I learned from this worthless waste at my feet is that no one can do my job better than me.

Anyway, now that I think about it, what do I have to loose? Nothing! Only myself if I don't reach the goal I was born to reach. I'm one of the bringers of the old law, one that purifies through fire and washes through drowning. There is no other way.

My goal is much too high for hesitations, for doubts. I haven't been any father's son for a long time. I had a mother and that's all. _He_ disappointed me with his addled ideas when I needed no deviations from the straight road I was just starting to walk on. His interests weren't honest, he never believed in anything, he never dedicated himself body and soul to anything, neither person nor ideal. The Dark Lord understands these things, he understands me. We are not that different, Him and me, actually I have more things in common with Him than I have with _that man_ that's supposed to be my father. That man only sees his own selfish interest and he doesn't believe in anything. Interest and cowardice. Lots and lots of cowardice.

I just hope that the Dark Lord will be pleased with what I did. I just hope that my work here helped him. I know he is back and I feel it, I feel it in my veins. The Mark has sent power in my whole body. That amazing tingling in the back of my head that makes me feel unstoppable. And I am! I am unstoppable when he is with me. I have him beside me everyday; I have waited so many years and kept him in my mind every second of everyday. Everywhere I went he was behind my every word, every move, every breath – he kept me alive in that hellhole I was imprisoned, for him I managed to keep my wits about myself here, at Hogwarts, among all this human filth.

This is who I am and that is why _this is nothing._ This bone is nothing but a bone. This bone is the nothing he was. And he was nothing to me. I never needed him to be anything. Ephemeral, decay - an insignificant object soon to rot in the bowels of the Earth like a common leaf among the billions of billions of common leafs eaten by the greedy land every year.

The black mouth of the Earth, blacker than the darkest of nights, crushing this bone in its teeth; its black fangs will close over the dull white and its moist and rough tongue will dissolve it in the smallest of particles until its mere existence will only be an amusing memory – an amusing nothing.

I am everything, everything that he never was. I'd like him to be here and look at himself. I am sure that the revelation of his last moment in being would open his eyes to reality – would wake him to an uncharacteristically powerful epiphany. I know it.

I feel like laughing seeing the soil gulping the _nothing _so enthusiastically. But I'm not laughing, not yet. My lips peel slowly of my teeth and I'm grinning at the pathetic _white_ that is still trying to fight its way out of the engulfing, humid darkness. I fall on my knees, "_father_" in peals of laughter spitting on the awkward, abject grave I made for you. I spit because you are nothing.

"You were hoping to see me kneeling and weeping at your grave, right? Suffering? What a joke!! I have no one to cry for anymore! You took care of that!" I yell at you as if you were in front of me. I do not want to crawl in the mud anymore, I need to stand up. Stand up and look down at you.

I am what you didn't want. I am your nightmare and it is perfect. I am not what you, in your bloody righteousness, wanted. I am me, not you. You with your slimy moustache and your sleek hair, with your stiff robes and uppity manners, your rules and your shame, your fad, phobia, rigidity, severity, your daily routines and your frustrations, you with your imbecile gestures and habits that would drive me round the bend. Your voice, your manner of walking, your words and your clothing and likes and dislikes – the smallest of things that made you who you were – the most annoying and maddening things in the world.

How pathetic you were _father_, so pathetic and awkward that I have to lean against this tree next to your grave not to fall on the ground laughing. I laugh and laugh and fall on my knees again, hitting the ground with my fists beating the dust in place over you. My fists ache, the pain wakes me to my newfound freedom.

I am finally me. Finally I am not you. I am free.

Anything can happen now, I could die now, I don't care, I will die with tears of laughter in my eyes.


End file.
